


The Pleasant Valley Poltergeist

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo: Season 2 [3]
Category: Scooby Doo - All Media Types, The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Supernatural Elements, plus a good old-fashioned mystery too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28076145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: [Original 13 Ghosts 'verse, hypothetical "Season 2"] After Vincent and the gang are assigned to deal with troublesome spirit, they find themselves needing to infiltrate a gated community, posing as ordinary residents in a no-nonsense neighborhood. But which will be more troublesome: the supernatural entities? The secondary mystery? Or the wrath of the Homeowners' Association?
Series: The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo: Season 2 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866670
Comments: 20
Kudos: 8





	1. To Places Far Away

**Author's Note:**

> And here is my third installment in my 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo season 2 project. It’s off to a later start than I’d like, on account of unpredictable factors. I’m not entirely sure what my update schedule will be for this fic, but I’ll try to be as regular as I can with updates.

For the longest time, Vincent Van Ghoul had used his castle study as a quiet place to reflect and contemplate. Since taking in his five ghost-hunting apprentices, however—three humans and two dogs—his study could no longer be described as “quiet.” He’d initially wondered why they’d chosen the study, of all places, to pick as their spot for relaxing together, but the answer became clear eventually—they knew it was the place where Vincent most often could be found, and just as they enjoyed each other’s company, they enjoyed his, as well.

And, for his part, Vincent enjoyed their company, too—they were the closest he had to children of his own, and so, he took their takeover of his study in stride and accepted that this was the way his life was now. And he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

That particular evening had found Vincent reading in his chair as Shaggy, Scooby, Flim-Flam, and Scrappy were watching a dog show on the tv that they had somehow persuaded Vincent to conjure in the study. Daphne had soon joined them, looking distracted and worried about something.

“Rhat’s up?” Scooby asked.

“Nothing,” she sighed.

“Daphne…?” Vincent asked, sensing her worry.

“Really—it’s nothing,” she insisted. “I just got word from the _Chronicle_ that they’re evaluating my progress—to consider whether or not I’ll be a permanent investigative reporter on their staff. If they take me on board, I’ll no longer be just freelance—and the _Chronicle_ has a wide distribution—I’d be able to reach so many people that way, even internationally!”

“You’re a great reporter, Daphne,” Shaggy encouraged. “If those guys at the _Chronicle_ have any sense at all, they’ll see that, too!”

“Yeah!” Scrappy exclaimed. “And if they turn you down, Uncle Scooby and I will lobby for you! Won’t we, Uncle Scooby?”

“Rheah, rhe would!” 

“Well, _that’d_ make an interesting story for Daphne to write for them,” Flim-Flam mused. “You two influencing Human Resources despite not being human?”

“That _would_ have a poetic spin to it,” Vincent agreed. He glanced over at Daphne. “From what you’ve shown us so far, your work has been exemplary. Have some faith in yourself—as we all have in you.”

Daphne managed a smile.

“Thanks, Guys,” she said. “I’ve done the best I can; I just need to relax and forget about it until I hear the results.” She sat down on the sofa with the others. “Oh, is this the AKC show?”

“Yup!” Shaggy said. “Scoob’s got his eye on that Malamute.”

“Rhi just said she looked nice!” Scooby exclaimed, going slightly red.

“Sure, Buddy, sure…”

“Eh, mush…” Scrappy said, uninterested. “I’m rooting for my dad—oh, look, there he is!”

Flim-Flam and Vincent both looked in curiosity to see a large Great Dane on the screen; he was fawn-colored like Scooby and Scrappy, but had a black muzzle apropos of a show Dane. A nameplate onscreen revealed his name as Argos.

“So that’s your pops, huh?” Flim-Flam asked.

“Uh-huh! Mom says I get my spunk from him. Everything else, I got from her.” He sighed, watching as Argos paraded around the show area. “I wish I could see Dad more often—he doesn’t really have much time for me, being so busy with shows and stuff. …Plus, I think he’s kinda disappointed that I won’t be a show dog like him.”

Scooby’s tail twitched slightly, but he didn’t say anything; there was a point of contention between Argos and the Doo family on account of Argos’s lack of involvement in raising Scrappy, and his mother, Ruby, had suspected that it was, indeed, because Scrappy had taken after her family—no black muzzle on a fawn-colored Dane meant that Scrappy, like the rest of the Doos, could never be a show dog. It was a trade-off, however—Argos couldn’t speak any human language, and _that_ was something the Doo family prided themselves in.

Flim-Flam awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, not sure what to say. He didn’t even remember his parents; he didn’t know what it must be like to have a parent and not get to be with them.

“If Argos refuses to see the virtues of the son he has, that’s _his_ short-sightedness,” Vincent said, flatly. “Hopefully, he’ll realize that one day. But, in the meantime, you have family here, Scrappy.”

“Yeah, and boy, am I grateful for it!” the puppy exclaimed, cheering up again. “And I’ve got Mom back in New York, and Uncle Yabba in Tumbleweed, and my grandparents in Dooville…”

“Argos—how ironic,” a new voice said. “He must have been named after Argos, the dog of Odysseus—I met him once, when I help Odysseus return home. How fitting, then, that the son of another dog named Argos is giving me aid.”

“Athena!” Daphne exclaimed, standing up to greet the ancient goddess who had suddenly appeared in Vincent’s study.

Vincent also stood, bowing in respect—in his younger years, he had sworn fealty to Athena, vowing to perform any task she requested of him. So far, she had only asked him to gather the masks of the three Gorgons, as well as sealing the two remaining Gorgons in the Chest of Demons—something that the gang had insisted on helping with, as well as any future assignments that Athena might have had while they waited for the final escaped ghost from the Chest of Demons to reveal itself.

“Lady Pallas, you honor me with your presence,” Vincent said. “Might I assume that you have an assignment for me?”

“I do,” she said. “I need you and your apprentices to wrangle a poltergeist that is on the run, wreaking havoc.”

Shaggy and Scooby gulped, but compared to Athena’s last assignment, it certainly seemed easier than going after Gorgons.

Vincent seemed to think so, as well.

“I will gladly do as my lady commands,” he said. “But the task seems fairly simple.”

“It’s… not as simple as you might think,” the goddess said. “And the nature of this challenge makes your apprentices very valuable in your quest, should they choose to accompany you.”

“Of course we will,” Daphne replied, before Vincent could even say anything.

The others spoke words of agreement, prompting Vincent to give them all an exasperated look before turning back to the goddess with a shrug.

But Athena smiled.

“Very well, then,” she said. “This poltergeist was last seen outside a city that is both foreign to Vincent and myself, but a city that, perhaps, some of you are acquainted with—Tucson.”

“Arizona?” Shaggy asked. “Sure, we’ve been there before—well, most of us.”

“And I’ve always wanted to go there,” Flim-Flam said. “Oooh, I can just see it now, sneaking around in those old-time saloons and grifting card players…”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but they don’t really have those anymore, except for vintage recreations,” Daphne informed him.

“…Oh. Eh, I’m sure I’ll find something over there…”

“I imagine we’ll be busy chasing down that ghost to bother about saloons, anyway,” Vincent said. “We shall go at once, My Lady.”

“Good luck to you all,” she replied, before teleporting away.

Vincent sighed quietly before taking his crystal ball from its stand.

“I’m sorry, Scrappy, but I’m afraid you’ll have to miss your father’s contest.”

“It’s no biggie—I can record it and watch it later!” the puppy replied, cheerfully. “Splatting ghosties with you will be more fun, anyway!”

“I don’t know about that, but I give you points for the consistency of your eagerness,” Vincent mused.

And, with that, he activated the crystal.

*************************

Within minutes, the six of them were in Daphne’s red van, on the roads just outside Tucson. Though Vincent had contributed to the outfitting of the van’s ghost-chasing equipment after the gang started using it to track down the 13 Ghosts, this was the first time he had found himself riding in the van with the others. Aside from putting a stop to the initial squabbling over who got to pick the radio station (by insisting that he needed quiet to concentrate, thereby making the discussion moot), it was just the same as being with the others in the study, aside from Daphne concentrating on driving.

“We’re getting closer,” Vincent said, gazing into the crystal.

“The Specter Detector says the same thing,” Daphne said, taking a glance at it. She did a double-take. “Um… I’m seeing two sources of spectral activity being tracked on it.”

“You mean there’re two ghosts!?” Shaggy gulped, as Scooby leaped into his arms.

“Ah, I see…” Vincent said. “Yes, there are two instances of paranormal activity in the area—however, we are only concerned about one. This first reading can be ignored—just drive on past it to get to the second one.”

“Right,” Daphne said.

“But if there’re ghosties there, too, shouldn’t we splat them, too?” Scrappy asked.

“Not all ghosts are evil, Scrappy,” Vincent explained. “And to disturb their afterlives would be a cruel thing to do.”

“But ghosts aren’t supposed to be here in this world,” Flim-Flam said. “They’re supposed to cross over, aren’t they?”

“Ideally, spirits are supposed to cross over and find peace in the afterlife, yes,” Vincent agreed. “It’s one of the many reasons why necromancy is a forbidden magic art—the dead are supposed to remain that way. But there are many reasons why ghosts can’t or don’t cross over—perhaps they have unfinished business, perhaps they have too much emotional baggage, perhaps it’s because of a curse, but, sometimes, they stay because of things in this world that they are still attached to. Look…”

As they drove past the first blip on the Specter Detector’s radar, the gang paused to look at an old-time Western town appearing in the moonlight.

“Rhwow…” Scooby said, amazed in spite of his fear. Even Shaggy looked just as awed.

“It’s beautiful…” Daphne breathed, pulling the van over to focus on it.

“Yes, it is,” Vincent agreed. “You see how the town itself shimmers in the moonlight, like it’s an apparition, as well?”

The others nodded.

“It _is_ an apparition,” he continued. “The people who lived in this town all those years ago clearly loved it very much; that flickering is on account of the fact that, though the spirits did, eventually, cross over, their memories and love of this place are so strong, that, on some nights, when the moon is bright enough, it can bring them back—and their beloved town along with them. The celestial power of the reflected sunlight off of the moon helps to grant them this ability.”

As if to illustrate his point, a passing cloud obscured the moon for a moment, and in that moment, the entire shimmering town faded away, before returning as the moonlight resumed shining upon it.

“Gee…” Scrappy said, as he stared. “That’s… kinda neat, actually.”

“Yes, it is quite fascinating,” Vincent agreed. “Perhaps, after our work is done, we can spend a night here.”

Shaggy and Scooby didn’t look too thrilled at this idea, but Flim-Flam certainly did—

“And can we go to the saloon!?” the boy asked, excitedly.

“…We’ll discuss that later,” Vincent replied, after a moment. “We’ve got work to do, after all.”

“Yeah, guess so…”

Daphne sighed and pulled back onto the road, continuing to follow the second blip on the Specter Detector. They were heading into the suburbs now—the communities that lay just outside Tucson, and it was with some concern that they realized that this poltergeist was deciding to stalk a residential area.

“We’re nearly there,” Vincent said, glancing from his crystal to the detector. “Stay alert.”

They were all watching through the windows and windshield, and it was Shaggy who spotted something first—

“What’s that misty thing floating in the air right there—right up ahead of us? Is… is that the ghost!?”

Daphne drove closer, staring at it, and Vincent held up his crystal, scowling at it.

“That’s it, alright,” he said. “It’s obscuring its true form; perhaps I can get rid of its perception filter…”

The crystal glowed with a green light, and, suddenly, the formless mist turned into a spirit in a silvery hooded robe. The spirit turned to them, and, suddenly, it screeched at them, and the hood slid back slightly, revealing two fiery eyes and a mouth full of sharp teeth—and from the sleeves of its robe emerged two hands with gigantic claws.

Daphne let out a frightened cry, slamming on the brakes; even Scrappy seemed startled by the sight of the poltergeist, gripping a frightened Flim-Flam’s sleeve as Scooby clung onto Shaggy.

The poltergeist now reared its clawed hands back, aiming to strike at them through the windshield—

“ _Reflect_!”

The poltergeist screeched again as its claws bounced harmlessly off of the barrier that Vincent had conjured in front of the van—and then, the spirit caught sight of the warlock.

Vincent was the only one not cringing in fear at the spirit—if anything, he looked furious at its attempt at trying to attack the others right in front of him, and the spirit immediately realized the grave error in judgment it had made. Even before Vincent could go for the Chest, the spirit fled, flying back in the direction they had come.

Daphne was the first to recover, pulling a U-turn to follow it, even before Vincent could give the word. She pursued it for a few minutes, but then slammed on the brakes again as it turned itself back into a silvery mist and floated over a large gate.

“Well?” Vincent prompted. “Why are we stopping?”

“We can’t go any farther,” Daphne sighed.

“Whyever not!?”

“It’s a gated community, Mr. V,” Shaggy said, pointing at the sign on the closed gate that read _Pleasant Valley_.

“That gate won’t open without a password—only the residents will have that,” Daphne explained.

“Hmph. Nothing a teleportation spell can’t solve…”

“No, you can’t do that!” Daphne exclaimed, grabbing his wrist as he raised his hand to cast the spell. “You don’t know what these people are like, Mr. Van Ghoul—the people who run these kinds of places are selfish snobs that put the image of themselves and the community above any outsiders. If they catch us trespassing in there—and they will, with all the surveillance tech they’ve got—we’ll be in the biggest mess of trouble with plenty of legal red tape to tie us down for the rest of our lives!”

“And when did you suddenly become an expert on these kinds of people?” Vincent inquired. Once again, he was simultaneously vexed and impressed at her lack of hesitation in stopping the world’s most powerful warlock in his tracks

“I grew up around them,” Daphne sighed, letting go of his wrist. “These were the people who always invited my parents and me to their parties in places just like this—the ones that owned and ran the whole neighborhood. Believe me, they were all about keeping ‘the riffraff’ out—I remember one time I asked if I could bring the rest of the gang with me because these parties always got so stuffy and I didn’t want to get bored. My parents were nice about it; they didn’t mind, but when we all showed up…” She shook her head.

“Man, you should’ve _seen_ the looks they were giving to Fred and Velma and me,” Shaggy recalled. “They eventually tolerated me once they found out that my family had land up in Massachusetts, but they _hated_ Fred and Velma.”

“Rheah!” Scooby frowned, recalling it, as well. “Rotten snobs…”

“I haven’t even met these people, and I hate ‘em already,” Flim-Flam scowled.

“Yeah, me, too,” Scrappy agreed.

“I’m sure most of the residents themselves are decent people,” Daphne finished. “But the owners and administrators are sure to be all the same.”

“…And what do you suggest we do in regards to the poltergeist who happens to be hiding in and amongst these varying personalities?” Vincent asked.

“Honestly? I’d say we cut our losses and explain to Athena that we couldn’t do it,” she said. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t go for that…”

“You would be correct.”

“…So, there’s only one way to get in there and get that ghost,” Daphne continued. “…We need to wait until morning, meet with the administration, and apply to move in as residents so we can chase that ghost in there.”


	2. Rows of Houses That are All the Same

It soon became clear why Athena had said that the mortals’ expertise would be most helpful to Vincent. Daphne had driven the van back outside the suburbs for some fresh air to think and piece together her plan; the ghost town still shimmered in the distance under the moonlight.

“If Shaggy or I tried to apply, there’s a slim chance we could get a house—I’d probably have a better chance than Shaggy in a case like this,” Daphne said. “But the problem is that they’d want our parents to co-sign, and there’s no way to do that without letting them know exactly what’s going on now—and what we’ve been up to this past year and a half.”

“…Yeah, let’s… avoid that,” Shaggy said, wincing.

Scooby’s parents were the only ones who knew the truth—and only because they had inadvertently become involved in their encounters with Time Slime and Phantazmo. Though the Doos were close friends with Shaggy’s parents, they had agreed, after much pleading from Shaggy, not to say a word to them.

Shaggy and Daphne had barely told their parents of some of the trouble they’d gotten into back when the monsters were _fake_ —telling them about the real ones now would be out of the question.

“So… If the two of you can’t apply for the house, that doesn’t leave us with many options,” Scrappy asked. “Uncle Scooby and I can’t apply—we’re dogs! And Flim here is too young. What now?”

“Well, that all depends,” Daphne said. She glanced at Vincent. “I know I try not to ask you for much—”

“It has not gone unnoticed,” Vincent agreed.

“But this is for Athena and her mission, so, I’ve got to ask now—what exactly are the limitations of your powers?”

Vincent glanced at her, with an arched eyebrow.

“In theory, my powers are almost limitless,” he said, a hint of pride evident in his voice. “There is very little I _can’t_ do. …However, a warlock must have a personal code of ethics, and I am no exception. There are lines I won’t cross, and, therefore, some things I _won’t_ do. The Forbidden Arts, for example—they are forbidden for good reasons.”

“Well, this isn’t a Forbidden Art, but it _is_ of dubious legality,” Daphne said. “I need you to conjure up some faked records that, if accessed via a computer, will look flawlessly genuine to any mortal who sees them.”

“Records of what?” Vincent asked.

Daphne bit her lip.

“Of… you,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation. “You’re going to have to apply for the house.”

There was an awkward silence as Vincent glanced at her with an unreadable expression—until the silence was broken by Flim-Flam bursting out in laughter.

“Rhou gotta be kidding!” Scooby exclaimed over the boy’s laughter.

“I’m being absolutely serious,” Daphne said, causing Flim-Flam to stop laughing.

“…You… you really think Vince can pull this off?” Flim-Flam asked, in disbelief.

“If we can get the faked records perfect, he can,” she replied. “The administration would definitely prefer to lease out to a wealthy single father rather than a young adult.”

“Well, you’ve got a point there…” Shaggy began, but he trailed off as Daphne’s words sunk in. “…Wealthy single father?” He glanced at Vincent, who looked absolutely deadpan. “…You know, I think it just might be crazy enough to work.”

“It’s definitely the best chance we’ve got,” Daphne agreed. She looked back at Vincent. “Well…?”

Vincent let out a quiet sigh.

“Very well,” he said. “It can’t be as bad as the time Voudini, Boris, and I had to infiltrate a music hall, anyway…”

“Exactly, this will be easy—we’re practically like a family already…” Daphne trailed off, registering what Vincent had said. “Wait, what? Why on Earth did you have to infiltrate a music hall?”

“Nevermind that—did you sing!?” Flim-Flam asked, eager to hear this story.

Vincent cleared his throat, eager to change the subject.

“Now, about this paperwork I need to conjure…?” he asked, as Flim-Flam continued to ask about this alluded misadventure.

Vincent managed to deflect Flim-Flam’s query (for the moment, anyway) by insisting that they focus on the mission; Flim-Flam now chatted with Scooby and Scrappy while Daphne and Shaggy did their best to explain exactly what kind of paperwork Vincent needed.

“I still can’t picture it, no matter how I try,” Flim-Flam was still saying. “Vince— _singing_? Talk about surreal!”

“You want to talk about surreal?” Daphne asked, looking over her shoulder at him. “I just spent a half an hour trying to explain to a two-thousand-year-old warlock what a credit score is. We are well past ‘surreal’ by now, singing or no singing.” She did glance at Vincent, however, as though also silently asking if he had, indeed, done any singing on that undercover endeavor.

Vincent saw her expression and hastily returned his focus to the credit report that he had conjured.

“I will say that you mortals have an amazing ability of complicating absolutely everything,” he stated. “I’ve seen ancient stone tablets in long-lost languages that made more sense than this… ‘credit report,’ as you call it.”

“Like, we barely understand it ourselves,” Shaggy said. “But the one you made looks good, from what I can see—same with the tax records. And you nailed the social security card, too.” He held up the conjured card.

“I agree,” Daphne said. “The only thing left to do now is to conjure up these same records into the official databases. A database is—”

“I know what a database is,” Vincent interrupted. “I _did_ keep up with the times, just so you know.”

Daphne shrugged, and she and the others watched in silent intrigue as Vincent now concentrated; the facsimiles of the credit report, tax records, and the social security card now glowed for a few minutes. They eventually stopped glowing, and Vincent looked satisfied.

“That’s it, then.”

“Rheally?” Scooby asked.

“Have I ever given you reason to doubt me before?”

“Rhno.”

“I rest my case.”

“Well,” Daphne sighed. “That’s one part over with. But now, we’ve got to make it through that meeting with the administration in the morning. And, um… Well…” She chose her next words carefully. “I don’t know how else to say this, Mr. Van Ghoul, but tuxedos and capes aren’t considered everyday wear in suburbia. And neither is your mage’s robe. Do you have anything, um… formal but mortal-y?”

Vincent had to hide his amusement; he knew she was trying very hard not to be insulting in regards to his preferred manner of attire. Indeed, this was the first time one of them had ever brought it up in discussion at all. Perhaps that was why they had seen each other as family so readily—they had accepted how the others were without question, with no desire to try to change them. Indeed, Daphne, Shaggy, Scooby and Scrappy had known each other for a long time, but they had shown the same level of instant acceptance to an ancient warlock and a smooth-talking child without any hesitation.

“Yes, I’m sure I can conjure something ‘formal and mortal-y,’ as you say,” he said, trying to maintain a deadpan look.

“Great,” Daphne sighed in relief. “And now… we just have to wait.”

*************************************

Still on Tibetan time, the mortals had to force themselves to nap for a little bit, knowing that they’d have to rapidly adjust to the new time. After some rest and a few phone calls later, they were soon meeting with the housing administration, dressed up—even Shaggy had brushed his hair (at Daphne’s insistence), and Vincent was in a perfectly ordinary suit and tie—though he’d pinned his emerald brooch to his lapel, steadfastly refusing to be anywhere without it, as it augmented his powers significantly.

The meeting seemed to be going well so far—the record checks did, indeed, go through flawlessly, causing Vincent to be somewhat smug as the others sighed in relief.

Mrs. Reece, the platinum-blonde member of the administration they were meeting with, seemed satisfied with the records, but there was, clearly, something bothering her—and it soon became clear as to what it was.

“So…” she said. “Everything seems to be in order—your credit, your income, and you have a very intriguing profession. Antiquity appraisals—you don’t see that everyday. And with three children, you’ll fit right into our family-oriented community…” She trailed off, arching an eyebrow at Shaggy’s brown hair, Daphne’s red hair, and then Flim-Flam’s darker complexion, but opted against making any comment about how different the three of them looked. “But it says on your application that you have two dogs?”

“That’s right, Ma’am,” Daphne said, sighing internally—she knew this would be the hurdle; Scooby and Scrappy were waiting back at the van, knowing that their presence would be scoffed at for a meeting with the administration. “Two Great Danes—one’s just a puppy. They’re really very sweet; I promise you won’t even notice they’re here.”

“Well… we prefer our residents to have _small_ dogs,” Mrs. Reece replied, looking on in obvious disapproval. “The puppy should be fine for now, but the large one—”

“—Is very much a part of the family,” Vincent finished, scowling. “If you truly had a family-oriented community as you claim, you wouldn’t be suggesting that you would wish for my kids to be parted from a beloved companion.”

Shaggy had to struggle to keep his expression neutral; seeing Vincent give one of those snooty types a piece of his mind was satisfying enough as it was, but it was extra-heartwarming to see Vincent be so defensive of Scooby, particularly when considering the initially rocky start to their acquaintance.

“Well…” Mrs. Reece backtracked. “As I said, it is a preference. Just keep in mind where dogs are allowed in the community—and do remember that we have very specific leash laws, regardless of size.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Vincent replied, curtly. “Now, then, if everything else has met with your approval, we would like to see the house.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Mrs. Reece replied, perking back up again. “My car is right outside; just follow me!” But she was surprised and a little put out to see them head for the large red van. “Oh dear, I suppose I should mention, with a vehicle that size, you won’t be allowed to park that on the street or in the driveway—you’ll have to keep it in the garage.”

Vincent, who was facing away from her, rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“I tried to warn you,” Daphne said, in an undertone, before turning back to Mrs. Reece with a forced smile. “We’ll keep that in mind, too!”

She joined the others in the van, getting into the driver’s seat.

“Hey, Guys!” Scrappy said, perking up now that they were back.

“Rhow’s it going?” Scooby queried.

“Like, I think we might just pull this off,” Shaggy said. He hesitated, not sure whether to break the news to Scooby now that he’d have to be on a leash anytime they stepped outside. Opting to tell him later, Shaggy let it go for now.

“We’re going to see the house,” Vincent informed the two Danes. “Of course, we’ll have to accept it no matter what in order to complete our quest, but there’s no reason why we can’t pretend to ponder it over.”

“Can we see the house, too, or is it still just a humans-only thing right now?” Scrappy asked.

“Definitely humans-only still,” Flim-Flam lamented.

“Rhaww…” Scooby sighed.

They briefly discussed how well everything else went, however, as Daphne followed Mrs. Reece to the house at the end of the street—it was a large, spacious house, identical to all the others.

“They certainly do believe in complete and utter conformity, don’t they?” Vincent quipped.

“They sure do,” Daphne sighed.

“Hmm. Identical structures, identical yards, identical fencing…” the warlock scoffed, as they got out of the van (except for Scooby and Scrappy again). “I shudder to think what the interiors must look like…”

“Well, we’re about to find out,” Shaggy said, as Mrs. Reece unlocked the front door for them. “Keep your expectations low; this place is bound to be pretty drab.”

If Vincent had been keeping his expectations low, what he saw was clearly still worse than what he had been expecting—plain, white paint covered the walls, the carpet was also white, and even the furnishings were slightly off-white.

“Drab…?” the warlock asked in an undertone. “It’s _hideous_.”

“…It _does_ remind me of something vaguely unpleasant,” Daphne whispered. “But I can’t put my finger on what.”

“…A padded cell?” Flim-Flam snarked under his breath. “Those things are all white, too, right?”

“…Oh, gosh, he’s right…” Daphne said, fighting the urge to facepalm.

“You know, he’s joking, but I see it, too,” Shaggy whispered back.

“Well, what do you think?” Mrs. Reece asked, oblivious to their quiet conversation. “As you can see, it’s fully furnished, as we advertised.”

“And… each of the available models are just like this?” Vincent asked.

“Each and every one—you won’t find one piece of furniture out of place from any of the others,” she said, proudly. “And each one comes with luxurious amenities—access to any of the on-site facilities: shopping centers, a food court, a park, a gym, a golf course, tennis courts, squash courts… Well, you read the brochures.”

Vincent was clearly fighting back his critique on the décor; instead, he glanced back at the others.

“Well…?”

“It’s up to you,” Daphne said, in an undertone. “If we want to be able to look for that poltergeist with minimal interference, we’ll have to live here until we catch it. Once we do, we can get back to Tibet.”

“Yeah, and the sooner the better,” Shaggy sighed.

“Hey, no sweat,” Flim-Flam added. “Compared to some of the stuff we’ve had to deal with, this’ll be a piece of cake.”

“Why do I feel it won’t be that simple?” Vincent asked, and he let out a quiet sigh as he glanced Heavenward. “The things I do for Lady Pallas…” He steeled his resolved and turned back to face Mrs. Reece. “We’ll take the house.”

“Excellent!” she exclaimed. “All you need to do is sign some paperwork and then it’ll be official, but for the moment, let’s make it unofficial.” She gripped Vincent’s hand in hers. “Welcome to Pleasant Valley!”

Unbeknownst to the group in the house and the two dogs in the van, however, this entire exchange had been closely watched by two all-too-familiar ghosts, intently observing the conversations and listening in, all the while remaining invisible in front of one of the outside windows.

“Weerd, I don’t like being out here in the daylight—our powers aren’t as strong!” one of them complained.

“I know, Bogel, but something very interesting is going on,” Weerd replied. “Van Ghoul and those kids wouldn’t just pack up and move to the Arizona suburbs for no reason! Something’s gotta be up here!”

Bogel gasped.

“You don’t think Asmodeus—?”

“Nah, if it was him, he’d be making his presence known, and he’s been laying low since he got loose,” Weerd said. “I dunno what he’s waiting for, but this ain’t him. I may not know what this is, but if it’s got Van Ghoul interested, then it’s something we should be interested in, too!”

“We should?”

“Yeah! Maybe we can interfere and tip things our way…”

“…And grab the Chest!” Bogel finished. “Ooh, I like it!”

“Of course you do—that’s why I’m the brains of this outfit,” Weerd boasted. “Now, come on—we’ve got some poking around to do and see if we can find just what it is that they came here to check out!”

Still invisible, the two mischievous ghosts then flew off, aiming to stir up some trouble once again.


	3. A Change of Scenery

There was no reason not to move in right away—indeed, they had only required the essentials, as they hadn’t intended to stay very long. And so, Daphne was gathering the last of her accouterments from the van, and paused as she strode into the foyer of the house.

The interior was now completely unrecognizable, redone in a completely different style, with darker decorations and furnishings now contrasting the white walls.

“…Mr. Van Ghoul, what did you do!?” she exclaimed.

“If you thought that I was going to stay in a place _that_ unsightly…” he began, but let the thought trail off. He looked around at his handiwork. “It’s still a work in progress, of course, but it’s coming together. I’ll probably do the other rooms later—and the front yard.”

“I think there are better uses for your mana than making this place some sort of Gothic-style house!” Daphne said, placing a hand on her head as she took in the new décor.

“Oh, this barely used any mana at all,” Vincent assured her. “And this particular style is Baroque, not Gothic—though I might use that style for one of the other rooms…”

“Baroque, huh?” Shaggy asked. “ _Baroque_ -ing it was the best thing to do to a _fixer_ -upper like this!”

“Rhoh brother…” Scooby groaned, wincing at the pun; Flim-Flam and Scrappy could only stare.

“… _Really_ …?” Daphne asked, looking at Shaggy.

“…Shaggy, that was truly terrible,” Vincent declared.

“I know…” Shaggy sighed.

“Are you sorry?”

“No, Sir.”

“…Good,” Vincent finished, once again trying to hide that he was amused.

“Okay, well, I’m getting out of here before Shaggy comes up with any more bad puns,” Daphne declared.

“Where are you going?” Scrappy asked.

“The squash courts, the shopping areas—anywhere that I can find people to ask around if they’ve seen anything weird,” she replied. “That’ll give us an idea of where that poltergeist has been, and where it might be hiding.”

“Ooh, good idea,” Flim-Flam mused. “I’ll swing by the candy stores and the arcade—anywhere that the local kids hang out. They’ll have tales to tell. You coming, Scrappy?”

“You bet!” the puppy exclaimed.

“And Scoob and I will hit the food court!” Shaggy added.

“Rheah!” Scooby grinned.

They all darted for the door, pausing only when Vincent cleared his throat loudly.

“Did we forget something?” Daphne asked.

“Yes—you can all follow your own agendas however you wish, but dinner is here at 7:00,” Vincent insisted. “Don’t be late.”

“You’re really getting into your part, aren’t ya, Vince?” Flim-Flam commented.

“I’m being absolutely serious,” Vincent returned. “Aside from the fact that the poltergeist’s power will be stronger after sunset, it will give us a chance to plan our next move based on what you all find out.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, Mr. V—you know Scoob and I will be there if there’s food!” Shaggy promised.

“Rhespecially to get away from the ghost!” Scooby added.

“Yeah, that, too,” Shaggy gulped.

“Nevertheless…” Vincent said, walking with them down the front walkway to see them off. “Stay vigilant—and be careful!”

“We will!” Daphne promised, as they got back into the van.

“And contact me if you need help with anything!” Vincent called after them as the van pulled away.

“Oh boy; would you listen to him going on like that?” Shaggy mused, as he sat back in his seat. “Like, I think Flim-Flam was right—Mr. V is really getting into his role.”

“I don’t think he’s acting, Guys; you know how he is,” Daphne said. “He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, so he says and does stuff like this to show he cares. And after that time when he tried to pretend that he didn’t care, if him being a mother hen is the alternative, then I’ll gladly take it.”

“…Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point there,” Shaggy agreed.

When Athena had first recruited Vincent for her missions, Vincent had responded by trying to push the gang away for their own safety—and that had involved him pretending that they were nothing but nuisances to him. It had hurt—and it would have hurt a lot more if they had actually believed him, but they knew he’d only been blowing smoke in a desperate attempt to keep them away—anything to keep them somewhere safe. But they were stubborn and persistent, still finding their way back to him, and Vincent, who couldn’t bring himself to continue with that charade any longer, accepted his fate.

And if the gang had any leftover doubts as to what Vincent thought of them, they’d been extinguished not too long ago on an adventure that had required the use of blood magic to open a sealed portal; as Vincent had later explained, blood magic was supposed to have only worked between those related by blood, but he had considered them so much like family, they had been able to break the seal together, regardless of not being his blood relations—“family by choice,” he’d called it. It was one thing to know deep down that Vincent thought of them as his family—it was another thing altogether to see that rare moment where he had flat-out admitted it.

“Daphne’s right,” Flim-Flam admitted, after a moment. “Vince isn’t playing a part like I thought—he never was.” He gave a slight chuckle. “I remember when I first showed up at his castle after getting lost in the cold—he kept saying he was going to send me back to the social workers as soon as I’d recovered. Every few days, he’d try to say that it was time for me to go back, I’d argue with him, and he didn’t press it. …I guess it never registered that he could’ve just teleported me back if he’d really wanted to.”

“Yeah, that’s just like him,” Scrappy mused. “You know, we should do something for him.”

“Rheah, he does so much for us!” Scooby agreed. “Rhe can get him a present!”

“Well, I’m all for that,” Shaggy agreed. “But, like, what present do you get a sorcerer who can conjure up anything he wants?”

“Something he doesn’t know he needs,” Daphne replied. “…Whatever that is.”

“How about a mana potion?” Flim-Flam asked. “I bet Voudini knows a good potion-seller; and I can haggle for a good rate!”

“Well, that _would_ be practical,” Daphne said. “But we have to give him something that’s uniquely _us_.”

Shaggy mused for a bit as Daphne drove on, but then did a double-take as they passed a coffee shop.

“I got it!” he exclaimed. “Those coffee shops almost always sell coffee mugs with different kinds of designs and things—we’ll get him one of those mugs that says ‘#1 Dad’ on it! It’s _us_ , because he knows that we know that he thinks of us as family—and he knows that we think of him the same way!”

“Shaggy, that’s perfect!” Daphne exclaimed, as the others also voiced their approval. “This is great; I was going to stop by on the way back for some drinks to keep us awake on our ghost hunt tonight anyway—”

“You had to remind me of that, huh?” Shaggy winced.

“—I think I know everyone’s order, so if you guys can chip in, I can pick up the mug when I get the drinks. …Wait, I don’t know what Mr. Van Ghoul would order…”

“Easy,” Flim-Flam said, handing over his share of the mug money. “He’s a warlock, right? Get him a cold brew.”

Daphne just sighed. There would be no getting away from puns today, clearly…

“Hey, there’s the food court!” Shaggy exclaimed. “And the arcade should be close by, too!”

“Great, let’s go!” Scrappy exclaimed, as Daphne pulled the van over.

“Guys, wait!” Daphne called, as the others started to scramble out. “You forgot the leashes!”

“Rhat!?” Scooby asked, looking back at Daphne, stunned.

“Aw, man, I forgot,” Shaggy sighed. “Scoob, I’m sorry, but they have leash laws around here.”

“And that goes for you, too, Scrappy,” Flim-Flam added.

Scrappy looked scandalized.

“I’ve never been on a leash before in my life!” he protested. He eyed the hood of Flim-Flam’s sweatshirt. “Couldn’t I just…?”

“Yeah, actually, I think you could pull it off!” the boy replied, and he allowed Scrappy to clamber into the sweatshirt’s hood. “You okay back there?”

“Well, it’s not the best, but it sure beats a leash,” Scrappy said. “I’ll deal with it.”

Scooby now looked at Shaggy, and at his red shirt.

“…Like, sorry, Buddy, but I don’t think you’re the right size to pull that off.”

“…Rats…” Scooby grumbled as Shaggy apologetically clipped the leash to his collar.

“I know it’s humiliating, Scooby, but it’s only for a few days,” Daphne said. “Hang in there, okay?”

“Rhokay…” Scooby sighed, though he clearly was still embarrassed.

“C’mon, Pal; some lunch will cheer you up,” Shaggy encouraged, and he led Scooby off.

Flim-Flam sighed and headed off with Scrappy still in his sweatshirt hood.

And Daphne sighed for a moment before driving off to the squash courts. She was already in her gym gear, hoping that she hadn’t lost some of her edge—it had been quite a while since she’d played squash. …Actually, it had been a while since she’d really had a chance to kick back and do _any_ of the leisure activities she’d done before their days of chasing real ghosts had started; the nearest settlements near Vincent’s mountain castle were the small village and a nearby monastery—neither of which had gyms, malls, or sports courts of any kind.

She realized now just how much she’d missed of those old days, but, even so, she wouldn’t trade the life she had now for anything.

Daphne headed towards the building now, giving a casual hello to a young blonde woman about her age who was waiting outside with her squash equipment, looking nervously at her watch. The woman looked up as Daphne greeted her, seemed to wrestle with something internally for a moment, and then spoke up.

“Wait!” she exclaimed, causing Daphne to pause and look back. “Um… I’m really sorry to bug you, but… I think I saw you and your family this morning, looking at the house at the end of South Street.”

“That’s right—we just moved in,” Daphne said, with a nod. “My, uh… my father is taking care of unpacking and basically told the rest of us to do whatever we wanted for the afternoon.”

“That’s nice; I live next door to you with my mom and grandmother,” the blonde replied. “I’m Marin—Marin Valentine.”

“I’m Daphne…” she trailed off, realizing that something about the blonde had seemed vaguely familiar. “Um… Excuse me for asking, but are you related to—?”

“Melody Valentine?” Marin finished, managing a smile for the first time since speaking to her. “I get that a lot—and yes, I am. She’s my cousin. You a fan?”

“A fan? We hung out once when we crossed paths a few years ago—her and her entire band!” Daphne exclaimed. It had been quite an adventure, solving the mystery of the _Dixie Queen_ with not only the rest of the gang, but Melody and her bandmates and crew, too. “Are they still together? The band, I mean.”

“They sure are,” Marin said. “They’re on tour right now!”

“Oh! …Well, that’s wonderful,” Daphne said, feeling a little bit jealous that Melody and her gang had managed to stay together. “But I have a feeling that you didn’t want to talk to me about your cousin.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Marin sighed. “Look, I realize this is a big favor I’m asking, but you have no idea how big a help you’d be if you’d be my squash partner for the afternoon. You know Mrs. Reece—the HOA member who showed you the house?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Her son Josh seems to have a swelled head on account of the fact that his mom is a senior member of the HOA board,” Marin frowned. “And that means he thinks he can hang out with any of the residents he wants, whether they like it or not—and he’s had his eye on me lately. He’s been wanting to be my squash partner for weeks now.”

“One of _those_ , is he?” Daphne sighed, giving Marin a sympathetic look.

“Yup,” she replied. “So, I’ve been making sure I had a squash partner already so that he can’t muscle his way into playing with me—but my partner today has bailed out on me, Josh is going to be here any minute to check on which of the girls have no partner, and I was wondering if you could—?”

“Say no more; I’ve got your back,” Daphne promised.

Marin sighed in relief.

“Thanks, I owe you one. I don’t know how I can make it up to you!”

“No problem at all,” Daphne insisted. “But if you want to help me out, you could clear up some rumors I heard about some strange ghostly happenings last night.”

“Only last night?” Marin asked, shaking her head.

Daphne blinked in surprise.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“Well, I guess it would’ve looked bad for the HOA if they’d let it slip that these ghostly sightings have been going on for months now,” Marin said.

“…Months…?” Daphne repeated.

“Yup,” Marin said. “My mom and I moved here three months ago; she moved back in with her mother after my parents split up—the sounds and sightings were going on since we moved in. And my grandmother has been here longer—she says it’s been going on for at least five months.”

“…Huh…” Daphne mused.

“Yeah, it’s more of an annoyance than anything else—a hoard of glowing sheets floating around and moaning, scaring off anyone wandering the streets at night,” Marin sighed. “No one goes out after dark anymore, and the HOA has been trying to keep a lid on the hauntings—I’m amazed you heard something about last night, honestly. But I guess you can keep a pack of ghosts secret for only so long.”

“A pack…” Daphne repeated.

Well, _that_ didn’t make any sense—aside from the ghost town, which had been far from Pleasant Valley, the only ghostly activity that the Specter Detector had picked up in the community had been the solitary poltergeist.

Daphne’s eyes widened in realization as a nostalgic thrill shot through her—if there were multiple ghosts around, and only their poltergeist was real, then that meant that the other ones had to be fake!

“Tell me _all_ about it,” she said, trying to reign in her eagerness.

“Sure—I’ll tell you over the game,” Marin offered. “C’mon—no sense waiting for Josh to find us out here.”

She headed inside, and Daphne paused for just a moment before following her, suppressing a determined smirk.

 _Look out, Pleasant Valley_ , she mentally transmitted. _Daphne Blake is_ back _in her element!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The _Dixie Queen_ mystery that Daphne briefly reminisces about is in reference to _The New Scooby-Doo Movies_ episode, “The Haunted Showboat.”


	4. Creature Comfort Goals

Shaggy had been amused to see that Flim-Flam had already succeeded in smooth-talking his way into the clique of local kids. Flim-Flam had a finesse and confidence that Shaggy had seen in Fred at that age—it was how Fred had naturally ended up in taking the lead in their mystery-solving endeavors, and Shaggy suspected that if Flim-Flam had a bunch of peers his own age, he’d just as easily have taken charge of them, as well.

Deciding to leave Flim-Flam to whatever it was he was planning, Shaggy led Scooby past the rows of eateries and food booths that filled the outdoor food court.

“Well, the good news is that there’s no shortage of good stuff!” Shaggy said, with approval. “What are you in the mood for, Scoob?”

“Hmm…” the Dane mused, the scents of food temporarily pushing the leash from his mind. “Rhoughnuts?”

“For openers? Or dessert?”

“…Dessert,” Scooby decided.

“Okay, so we gotta find the perfect main course,” Shaggy said. “It’s tricky, because you never know what Mr. V will end up serving, so we don’t want to accidentally have the same meal twice…” He let out an eager sigh. He shouldn’t have been so surprised to find out that the warlock was also an amazing cook; whether it was magic or pure talent, Shaggy didn’t know, but Vincent’s meals were far more amazing than anything this food court could provide—and he made sure to take Shaggy’s dietary quirks into account, as well. “…Dinner is gonna be great, but we’ll have to take a gamble on lunch. Let’s see… There’s the old pizza standby…”

“Rheah, rheah!” Scooby exclaimed, licking his lips.

“Or the sandwich stall,” Shaggy continued.

“Oooh…” Scooby’s nose now sniffed at the stall, taking in the tantalizing aroma of various condiments and fried onions.

“And, of course, there’s…” Shaggy trailed off as his gaze fell upon a pastel green-and-pink retro-looking diner. “…Oh, man, I can’t _believe_ it!”

He and Scooby headed towards it pausing at the glass doors to look inside; the interior had a black-and-white checkerboard flooring, with pastel green walls that had records and other old objects displayed upon it. The booths, tables, and counter were red and white, and in the back corner of the diner was a jukebox.

“What does this place remind you of, Scoob?” Shaggy asked.

“…The Malt Shop?”

“Yeah!” Shaggy grinned. “Man, it’s been forever since we’ve been there!”

“It’s been rhorever since we’ve been home,” Scooby pointed out.

“…I know,” Shaggy said, his grin fading. “But is it even really home anymore?”

“Rhuh?”

“Once Velma left for her internship, it never felt the same. I think that’s why we all left—one after the other. After Velma, then it was Fred, and then Daphne—and then she got us out of there, too. Even before the whole thing with the Chest happened, we didn’t really stay in one place—we were always following the next story.” He sighed. Once they’d graduated, Shaggy’s parents had moved back to Massachusetts; the Joneses and the Dinkleys had left soon after Fred and Velma had. The Blakes had also returned to their estate, but still owned the old house in town, which was where Shaggy and the dogs had stayed during that brief period of time when they were the only ones left in town; on the rare times in the last few years where they and Daphne had downtime from their journalism work, they’d stayed there again, and even Flim-Flam and Vincent had been guests there a few times in the last year and a half, as well. “It’s kinda funny, but Mr. V’s place in Tibet is the first place that’s felt like home since we actually _left_ home.”

“Rheah, that’s true…” Scooby began, but he was distracted by an embarrassed-looking waiter meeting them at the door.

“Um…” he said, apologetically. “I’m sorry, but, you can’t bring that dog in here…”

“Huh…!?” Shaggy asked, snapping out of his memories.

Scooby stared back at the waiter indignantly, his ears flattened in displeasure.

“I mean, ordinarily, I’d look the other way—the chef, too; he loves dogs. But the HOA has been ferreting around a lot today,” the waiter said. “If you wanna order something, I can bring it out to you. Or you can come back another time when the HOA isn’t around.”

“Uh… yeah, I think we’ll just come back another time,” Shaggy said. “C’mon, Scoob.”

Scooby quietly grumbled as they left.

“I bet most of these places will say the same thing about not letting you in,” Shaggy realized. “How’s about it, then—the sandwich stall? It’s outside; they can’t say anything.”

“Rhokay…”

The young man at the sandwich stall didn’t seem surprised to see them walk over.

“I see that a lot,” he said. “The HOA really doesn’t like dogs for some reason—or any animals, really. But it’s more noticeable with dogs since they normally would be out and about more.”

“Yeah, it’s not fair,” Shaggy sighed.

“But we can’t really do much about it. But I’ll give your dog a sandwich on the house. What would he like?”

“Ooh! Rhi’d like this and this and that and that, oh and some of that…!” Scooby exclaimed, getting up on his hind legs and pointing out what he wanted on his sandwich.

Shaggy couldn’t help but grin in amusement as the nonplussed stall attendant obliged Scooby.

“They’re never gonna believe this…” the attendant said, shaking his head as he handed over the now-giant sandwich to Scooby and then took Shaggy’s order. “Well, maybe they can, what with all the hauntings going on…”

“H-H-Hauntings?” Shaggy asked, having just accepted his sandwich. “Like, plural? Multiple ones?”

“Yeah—where’ve you been?”

“Rhe just moved in!” Scooby said, nervous as well.

“Ooh…” the attendant winced. “Well, uh… good luck. We’ve been dealing with ghosts for months now—usually around the on-site HOA office and the surrounding facilities.”

“Where’s the on-site HOA office?” Shaggy asked.

“That way, down the walking path,” the attendant said.

“Thanks—we’re, like, going the _opposite_ way!” Shaggy replied, paying for the sandwich and immediately making an about-face.

Scooby followed right behind, wolfing down his sandwich and going back down on all fours.

“Like, dealing with one ghost is bad enough, but now there’s a whole _squad_ of ‘em?” Shaggy asked. “No thanks!”

“Rheah, rhno thanks!” Scooby echoed.

“But we gotta let Mr. V know about this when we get back—even if Athena didn’t mention these other ghosts, he’ll probably want to deal with them.” Shaggy paused, wincing. “…And we can’t let him do that alone.”

“…Rhno,” Scooby agreed, with a gulp.

Shaggy gulped as well.

“Get ready, Buddy—tonight’s going to be a tough one.”

***********************************

Flim-Flam and Scrappy, like the others, had managed to pick up from the local kids that there had been multiple hauntings going on for a while, and in the vicinity of the on-site HOA office and the surrounding areas.

Heading off with this information, the two decided to head in the direction of the office in the hopes of seeing any signs—though they didn’t have much hope.

“I dunno why we’re going here during the day,” Flim-Flam sighed, in an undertone. “Like Vince said, the ghosts won’t be as powerful now—they probably won’t come out of hiding.”

“Oh no?” Scrappy replied, taking a peek out of the sweatshirt hood. “Well, don’t look now, Flim, but we’re being followed!”

“Uh-oh. Is it the poltergeist?”

“No; it’s those two meanies who tricked Shaggy and Uncle Scooby into opening the Chest of Demons!”

“Huh!?”

Flim-Flam pulled a pocket mirror from his sweatshirt, and, sure enough, caught a glimpse of Bogel and Weerd in it.

“What are _they_ doing here?” he muttered.

“They must’ve followed us all the way from Tibet—you know they’re always waiting for a chance to grab the Chest,” Scrappy fumed. “Oh, boy, we oughta just show ‘em a thing or two…!”

“I mean… we _could_ do that…” Flim-Flam said. “But we’ve got a bit of an advantage now. They don’t know that we know they’re following us. But if they know that we know, we could lose the chance to capture ‘em—they’d just run off, you get me?”

“Yeah, they probably would run,” Scrappy agreed.

“Right. But if we play the long con, we could capture ‘em along with the poltergeist!” Flim-Flam grinned.

“Ohh, because we’ll be back here with the Chest after dinner!”

“Exactly! …But we don’t wanna risk them meeting up with any of the other ghosts—especially that poltergeist,” Flim-Flam added. “We need to pull some evasive maneuvers and make sure they don’t suspect anything about the HOA office. We need to find a back alley to duck into!”

“I dunno, Flim; I don’t think this kind of place has back alleys!”

“…Well, _that’s_ unfortunate… How are we going to change our path without looking suspicious?”

“Flim-Flam? Like, is that you?”

“Is Rhappy with rhou?”

“…Nevermind, there’s our answer,” Flim-Flam said. Bogel and Weerd would have made themselves invisible upon seeing or hearing them; they’d be none the wiser that Flim-Flam and Scrappy had seen them first. “Hey, Guys!”

Scrappy gave a tiny wave from the sweatshirt hood.

“Where’re you two going?” the puppy asked.

“Like, as far away from that HOA office as we can!” Shaggy said. “That’s where—”

“Yeah, we know,” Flim-Flam said. “We heard the rumors, too. I gotta say, this is more than we bargained for—trying to find our poltergeist among whatever else is here.”

“We can discuss that at home with Mr. V,” Shaggy declared.

“Rheah, let’s go rhome!” Scooby agreed.

“But isn’t Daphne supposed to pick us up after she swings by the coffee shop?” Scrappy asked.

“Oh…” Shaggy sighed. “Alright, let’s spend the rest of the afternoon back at the arcade. That should be safe… and it’s been a while since I’ve tried one of those pinball machines.”

They headed off, and Weerd now made himself visible once again as he watched them walk off.

“Hmm, sounds like they’re ghost-hunting,” he mused.

“You call that a big surprise?” Bogel asked, also reappearing. “What else would they be doing here?”

“Alright, alright, no need to get smart,” Weerd frowned. “Look, they said they’ll be going back to their new place, right?”

“Right. But I’ll bet Van Ghoul’s already put up a protection spell around the place already,” Bogel sighed.

“Doesn’t matter; if they’ll be ghost-hunting tonight, they gotta go out sometime, right?” Weerd pointed out. “That’s when we’ll strike!”

The ghosts vanished again, and the mortals continued their way to the food court, relaxing once they reached the safety of the arcade.

And so, the afternoon sped by for all of them. This included Daphne as she and Marin played their rounds of squash; as promised, Marin told her all that she knew, but, unfortunately, it wasn’t much more than what the others had found out.

“Like I said, all the sightings have been all around the on-site office,” Marin finished, as they wrapped up and spent some time at the water cooler. “But, my gosh—the moaning carries all around the community! It sounds so _chilling_ when you hear it in the middle of the night!”

“I can imagine,” Daphne sighed. Even though he had been a fake, like the rest of the “monsters” she had encountered in her teen years, she still remembered the unsettling moans of the Mummy of Ankha as he had chased her and the others all night around the local university. Several of the fake monsters they’d come across had sounded truly terrifying, in fact; ironically, the _real_ ones hadn’t sounded as bad as the fakes—though, of course, what they put them through had been far worse…

“Oh great…” Marin groaned, looking away from one of the courts. “Looks like Josh is going to try inviting me for a few rounds.”

“Well, you’re still with me,” Daphne promised.

She forced a smile as Josh, a burly young man with a narcissistic amount of stubble, walked over to them.

“Evening, Ladies,” he said. “Marin, it’s good to see you again. And you, uh… I don’t believe I know you.”

“That’s right; you don’t,” Daphne said, with a calm smile. “Come on, Marin; let’s go.”

“Wait, Red, you can’t just go—”

“Actually, yes, I can.” Daphne’s eyes narrowed. “And don’t call me ‘Red.’”

Without even waiting for a reply, she placed her hand on Marin’s shoulder and led her out.

“That was amazing,” Marin sighed. “You handled him so well!”

“Yeah, well, I’ve gotten used to it by now,” Daphne sighed. It was one of the unfortunate things that came with being a woman in the reporter business—dealing with unwanted attention.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to,” Marin said, sincerely. “Look, you’ve done so much for me today; I don’t want to hold you up any longer—I’ll walk home.”

“Don’t be silly!” Daphne insisted, cheering up instantly. “We live right next door—I’ll give you a ride! You don’t mind if I stop off at the coffee shop first and then pick up the others on the way back, do you?”

“Oh, not at all—I’d love to meet them!” Marin smiled. “I wonder if your father has met my mom or my grandmother yet…”

“…I wonder, too,” Daphne said, hoping that, if Vincent had met the neighbors, things had gone as smoothly as possible.

***********************************

Vincent, in the meantime, certainly hadn’t sought out the attention of the neighbors. He had been preoccupied with decorating the house to his liking, and after getting the interior to his satisfaction, he had proceeded to move on to the front yard.

Casting a derisive glance at the white picket fence that surrounded the yard, he muttered in disapproval for a moment before snapping his fingers—and the white, wooden fence was instantly replaced with a wrought-iron fence, complete with a hinged gate.

With that settled, he moved on to the lawn, conjuring some hedges around the perimeter.

“Well, it’s a start…” he mused aloud. “But it’s still missing something…”

“Well, land sakes!” a voice exclaimed.

Vincent glanced over the hedges and iron fence he had placed to see an elderly woman—in her 70s, by the look of it, looking at Vincent’s landscaping results in amazement from the yard next door.

“Now _that_ looks really nice!” she commented. “I don’t think the HOA will like it, but I do!”

“Well, I’m glad you approve,” Vincent intoned.

“Unfortunately, it’s not a matter of whether or not I approve. How’d you sweet-talk that Reece lady into letting you do this?” she asked.

“Let’s just say that I… seized the initiative,” Vincent replied, giving a dramatic pause midsentence.

“Ohh, the old ‘it is better to seek forgiveness than permission’ trick, huh? Just do yourself a favor, Young Man—don’t let those kids of yours realize that you’re trying to pull that bit, or else they’ll pull it on you next!”

“I’m quite confident that they know better than to…” Vincent trailed off as her words sunk in. “…‘ _Young_ man?’”

“Well, from where I’m standing, you’re a young man—you look only slightly older than my daughter. She’s 47, you know.”

“Madam, I am a lot of things—but young is _not_ one of them,” the warlock assured her.

“Please,” she scoffed, looking him over. “You’re 52 if you’re a day!”

Vincent barely refrained from facepalming.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you seem to be raising those children yourself,” the lady continued. “Are you single?”

“Yes—and I believe the vernacular phrase to describe my situation is ‘it’s complicated,’” Vincent deadpanned.

“Oh, you don’t have to explain it to me; I’m widowed, and my daughter moved in with her daughter after a messy divorce just a few months ago. Name’s Millie, by the way.”

“Vincent.”

“Well, welcome to Pleasant Valley, Vincent,” Millie replied. “Hope you and your kids are happy here—those dogs, too. Listen, I hope you can get ahold of those youngsters and tell them to be back before dark—before the hauntings start. I’d hate to see them get terrified by all of those ghosts flying around…”

“Well, we already discussed…” He trailed off again. “‘ _All_ ,’ did you say?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Exactly how many ghosts are there!?” Vincent asked, distracted by this new information.

“Well, you got me; after hearing all that moaning and groaning, I wasn’t really in the mood to go out and count ‘em.”

Vincent briefly massaged the bridge of his nose, trying to make something of all of this. Was something wrong with the Specter Detector? Why hadn’t it registered the other ghosts?

“If you’ll excuse me, Madam, there’s something that needs my immediate attention inside,” he said, giving her a polite nod before heading back into the house to do some scrying with the crystal.

“Yeah, that was my reaction when the hauntings started, too!” Millie called after him. She smiled as the door closed behind him. “Oh, bless his heart—he really is such a sweet young man… Those kids of his are lucky to have him.”

She went back inside, and time ticked further on for the residents of Pleasant Valley.


	5. Here in Status Symbol Land

After stopping by the coffee shop to buy the drinks and the mug for Vincent’s present, Daphne picked up the others and headed back to their street, with everyone introducing themselves to Marin along the way. Shaggy and Scooby, like Daphne, had been pleasantly surprised to hear that she was Melody’s cousin, also remembering their _Dixie Queen_ adventure.

They made small talk as they headed back, and Marin thanked them again as they arrived at the end of their street.

“You really don’t know how much you helped me out today, Daphne,” she said, as they got out of the van. “And it was nice to meet the rest of you…” She trailed off as she noticed the iron fencing and the hedges that Vincent had conjured. “Um… those weren’t there this morning.”

“…No,” Daphne sighed. “They weren’t.”

“I guess ol’ Pops didn’t think too much of the white picket fence or the plain lawn and took things into his own hands,” Flim-Flam mused.

“Your dad set all this up himself?” Marin marveled. “Wow, he must be one heck of a DIY wizard!”

“…Well, you’re not wrong,” Shaggy replied, prompting Daphne to give him a look as Scooby giggled.

“Hopefully, I can meet him soon; he sounds like a great guy. I’m sure my grandma would hire him to help around her house, too,” Marin said. “I’ll see you guys around.”

“Bye!” Scrappy called, as she headed next door. “Gee, she seems nice.”

“Yeah,” Daphne agreed. “Let’s just hope she doesn’t realize how on the money she was.” She glanced at the iron fencing and the hedges, shaking her head. “We’ve got to tell him to put the old fencing back.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Flim-Flam said, as they headed through the front yard. “You know Vince—for him, aesthetics are everything.”

Daphne sighed again as she opened the front door.

“Rhe’re home!” Scooby called.

“Everything alright?” Vincent asked, arriving in the hall.

“Just fine, but we’ve found out that there’s a whole bunch of ghosties running around!” Scrappy exclaimed, as they followed him to the dining room.

“Yeah, we heard that, too,” Shaggy gulped. “Thought you oughta know, since we’ve gotta find our poltergeist in all of this.” He paused as he looked at the spread on the table and cheered up. “Alright, Mediterranean! Thanks, Mr. V!”

“Rheah, thanks!” Scooby grinned, as they all sat down at the table and began to eat.

“Yes, I knew you’d approve,” Vincent sighed. “In the meantime, I’ve been attempting to locate these wayward spirits with the crystal, but, for some reason, I can only sense the presence of our poltergeist, plus two more significantly weaker spirits—far fewer than the lady next door seemed to imply were around.”

“Yeah, those two weaker spirits are the same two that are always trying to steal the Chest from us,” Flim-Flam said. “Scrappy and I saw them.”

“We sure did!” the puppy agreed. “But they didn’t see us—they don’t know that we know about ‘em!”

“But, like, what about the other ghosts?” Shaggy asked through a mouthful of falafel. “That sandwich stall attendant was saying they were everywhere!”

“Rheah, if there’s more than three…” Scooby began.

“Anything other than those three ghosts are fake!” Daphne declared, pointing with her soupspoon for emphasis. “Look, we saw the poltergeist come in here last night for the first time, right? And those other two ghosts followed us. So, for the rest of these ghosts to have been here for months and not show up on either the Specter Detector or the crystal, they’ve got to be fake ones.”

“Then they’re of no importance,” Vincent dismissed. “We can just ignore them and focus on our quarry.”

“Ignore them?” Daphne asked. “But don’t you think it’s concerning that there are people trying to keep the residents inside at night? They wouldn’t be doing this for no reason—there’s got to be something going on here that they’re trying to hide. We’ve seen it so many times before—haven’t we, Shaggy?”

“I mean… yeah, we have, but—”

“Rhe’ve got enough to worry about!” Scooby finished.

“But it’s been so long since we’ve unmasked fake ghosts!” Scrappy said.

“I get it,” Flim-Flam mused. “This is the kinda stuff you were doing before you met Vince and me, huh?”

“Uh-huh!” Scrappy grinned.

“Exactly—we actually know what we’re doing with fake ghosts,” Daphne said. “There’s a mystery here that needs solving!”

Vincent sighed quietly again.

“While I am pleased to see you so enthusiastic over solving this mystery that seems to be afoot, do try to remember why we’re here,” he said. “I’m not trying to discourage you from trying to solve it, but we do have to prioritize going after the poltergeist.”

“Yes, of course,” Daphne agreed. “But there are sure to be clues when we go out there tonight, and we can spend tomorrow trying to put them together.”

“And I have no doubt that you’ll be just as good at doing that as you are in helping to catch the poltergeist,” Vincent said. “If all goes well and we capture it tonight, you can solve that mystery to your heart’s content.”

Daphne grinned.

“That sounds great,” she said.

“However,” Vincent went on. “It won’t be a walk in the park tonight; you’ll have to keep your wits about you, and you’ll have to stay alert—I can whip up a wakefulness potion before we head out, if that will help.”

“Maybe for Scooby and Scrappy, Mr. V,” Shaggy said. “But Daphne already got the rest of us some drinks that are just as good!”

“Oh?” Vincent asked. “And just what is the name of this apothecary that gave you these elixirs?”

“Starbucks,” Daphne said, without missing a beat. “I got a hot chocolate for Flim-Flam, a refresher for Shaggy, a caramel macchiato for me, and I wasn’t sure what you would like, but Flim-Flam said you might like a cold brew, so…”

“That will do nicely, thank you,” Vincent assured her, as she handed it to him.

“The mug,” Scooby reminded her in an undertone. “Rhive him the mug!”

“Oh! That’s right; there’s something else we got for you, too…” she said, taking out the gift bag. “This is from all of us.”

Vincent took note of Daphne and the others all watching intently for his reaction as he accepted the gift bag. With some amount of curiosity, he reached in and pulled out the #1 Dad mug, mildly amused by it. He was about to thank them for it, but then paused as it registered as to what was written on it, doing a double-take.

“It’s partly to help with our cover as a family and helping us blend in here—you can carry it around when you’re in the yard,” Daphne said, with a smile. “But it’s also partly from us to you.”

“Yeah, like, after that whole thing we did where we were able to open that blood magic gate together, despite not being related by blood, it just seemed like the perfect gift,” Shaggy added.

“And its was Shaggy’s idea, too,” Flim-Flam added, grinning. “We all thought it was perfect.”

“Rheah! It’s practical…,” Scooby pointed out.

“…And sentimental,” Scrappy finished. “What d’you think?”

Vincent succeeded in keeping his expression neutral, but it didn’t escape the others as to how he was now gripping the mug as though it was a valuable treasure.

“It’s an incredibly thoughtful gift,” he said, at last. “Thank you.” He was very clearly trying to suppress a smile as he continued. “You know, these sorts of speeches aren’t exactly my forte; so, do understand that I’m not saying this lightly, but you five—”

Whatever Vincent had wanted to say had been cut off as the doorbell rang; Vincent now scowled, his train of thought departed as he now consulted the crystal to see who it was as the others looked disappointed that whatever he had wanted to say to them would remain unspoken after all.

The crystal now showed Josh at the door, and Vincent frowned.

“Who is this supposed to be!?” he demanded.

“Oh, no…” Daphne groaned. “He’s the son of that HOA lady who showed us the house—he probably came here to talk to me and now he’s going to use the fence and the hedges as leverage. I’ll deal with him.”

She got up from the table, frustrated and angry. It wasn’t enough that Josh had poked around the HOA records or asked his mother to in order to find out where she was staying—no, he just _had_ to interrupt them right when Vincent was about to say something from the heart. Oh, they knew how he felt about them, but it was another thing altogether to be able to hear him say it. Those moments were rare, which made them all the more precious, and they’d just been robbed.

She slipped out the front door, careful not to let Josh see Vincent’s modifications to the interior of the house on top of all the changes to the yard, closed the door behind her, and gave Josh a glare that would’ve sent most other people retreating.

“ _What do you think you’re doing_!?” she fumed.

Josh, who had appeared smug at first (on account of the fence and the hedges), was now unnerved, wondering how she’d known it was him, and why she was so upset.

“I never said I wanted to talk to you—and now you show up here, interrupting us in the middle of our dinner!?” she continued. “You’re not endearing yourself to me by doing this—just the opposite. Now, I want even less to do with you—so get off of my porch!”

Josh stood there, baffled as his brain tried to keep up with what was happening; this was far from the grandiose charm offensive that he’d been planning to give once he’d gotten the chance to speak to her.

“Look, uh… I think we got off on the wrong foot here…”

“No foot will ever be the right one,” Daphne informed him. “Goodbye.”

“Wait! Red—!”

“And I told you not to call me that!”

“But I don’t know your name!” Josh protested.

“Rumpelstiltskin,” she deadpanned. “Now, for the last time— _go away_!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Daphne could see Marin looking out of the window next door, no doubt wondering what the shouting was about. Her eyes widened in concern as she saw Josh confronting Daphne on the porch.

Not noticing Marin, Josh took a step back before remembering that he had ammo. He stared back at Daphne and smirked.

“Sure you don’t want to reconsider, Red?”

“I’m sure.”

“My mother is on the HOA board,” he boasted. “She could get your father into a lot of trouble for these yard renovations he did. He’s not allowed to do that.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know,” she said, sounding unconcerned. After all, Vincent could make all of these alterations disappear as easily as he’d made them appear—which had the added bonus of making Josh look like a fool if he did try to report them.

“But, I’m a nice guy. And as a favor to you, I’ll forget I saw any of this… if you’ll go out with me tonight,” Josh added. “Plus a few rounds of squash tomorrow. I think that’s a fair deal, don’t you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not desperate, and even if I was, it wouldn’t be you I’d settle for.”

She finally struck a nerve and dented his pride; angrily, he took a few steps towards her to get into her personal space and intimidate her; she was ready to defend herself (she’d taken a few lessons on self-defense in an effort to lose her previous reputation for being danger-prone), but, in her peripheral vision, she saw Vincent teleport beside her.

Josh stopped in his tracks, wondering where the heck he’d come from at first, but then trembling as Vincent gave his iciest glare. It was a look that was capable of making even powerful supernatural beings quake on account of Vincent’s sheer power; one mortal wouldn’t last long, and, sure enough, Josh turned and fled, gripped by a fear unlike any other he had ever felt before in his life.

Josh was still running down the street as the others now dashed to the porch, having had to run from the dining room. Scooby growled at the retreating Josh as Daphne sighed and turned to the others.

“You heard over the crystal, huh?” she asked.

“Yeah…” Shaggy said, also frowning as Josh grew smaller in the distance. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” she promised. “I’m sure I could’ve handled him on my own, but… thanks for showing up.”

“I have no doubt that you could have,” Vincent replied. “But you couldn’t expect me to sit idly by and allow him to continue, could you?”

“Of course not,” Daphne said, managing a wan smile. “You’d hardly be #1 Dad if you had.”

Vincent’s expression finally softened.

“…I suppose so,” he admitted. “Nevertheless, as frustrating as our unwanted visitor may be, we can’t let him distract us from our mission; we’ll have to bother about him later. Let’s finish dinner and those drinks—we have a long night ahead of us.”


	6. Family Secrets

It was too much to hope that Vincent would go back to the conversation that Josh had interrupted, even though the others had been secretly hoping. Shaggy also knew how rare those moments were, and had also felt robbed.

 _He really liked that mug, though_ , Shaggy reminded himself, as he headed out to the van with the others. _That’s what matters_.

He got in the back of the van with Flim-Flam and the dogs (off-leash this time, as they were banking on being unobserved), pausing as he noticed Daphne using the driver’s side mirror to adjust a familiar-looking green chiffon scarf around her neck.

“Uh… Daphne? It’s been a while since you’ve worn that.”

She looked back at him with a smile.

“I was feeling nostalgic,” she explained, as she got into the driver’s seat. “So I decided to bring it back.”

Not sure how to reply to that, Shaggy responded with a nod. He couldn’t say that he missed the mysteries in the way she had—but he did have to agree that it was nice to know what they were doing, and the routine was (more or less) simple: find clues, run from the ghosts, find more clues, get chased some more, set some sort of trap (with varying levels of success), and, at the end of it all, somehow succeed and unmask the ghosts.

Being up against real ghosts and monsters was an unpredictable gamut of experiences; they had no idea at all what they were doing, and merely improvised their way through, sometimes escaping only by the skin of their teeth. He knew he’d never get used to it, no matter how long they kept at it.

Shaggy now glanced at the front passenger seat, where Vincent was concentrating on his crystal ball, and he let out a quiet sigh. Even if he hated dealing with real ghosts and monsters, he couldn’t run out on Vincent—and he knew Daphne felt the same way, even with her nostalgia for a good old-fashioned mystery. All of them would willingly follow the warlock anywhere—their foray into another dimension had proven that.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Daphne said, consulting the Specter Detector. “I’ve got coordinates here, which should equate to…”

“…The park in the center of the community,” Vincent finished, bringing up the image on his crystal. “Our quarry is there—and so are the other two ghosts.”

“Then let’s finish this quick and bag some crooks along with the ghosties!” Scrappy exclaimed, his tail wagging.

Scooby sighed at his nephew’s enthusiasm and steeled himself as Daphne head for the park.

“I’ll say one thing,” Flim-Flam said. “Getting the poltergeist is the mission, sure, but getting those other two ghosts after what they’ve tried to pull on us will be unbelievably satisfying.”

The others mumbled quietly in agreement; even Daphne’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the steering wheel.

They didn’t talk about it, but they—and Flim-Flam especially so—held a deep-seeded loathing for Bogel and Weerd on account of the time when they’d given the two ghosts the benefit of the doubt in regards to them helping break Rankor’s petrification curse on Vincent several months ago. The ghosts had ended up betraying them, and they’d nearly lost Vincent as a result, and though, outwardly, they had tried not to let on how upset they had been, there were some moments that they just couldn’t hide it anymore. They’d _all_ refused to forgive Bogel and Weerd for that, of course—but Flim-Flam had the added guilt of removing the ghost-proof handcuffs from them just immediately before their betrayal, and that was one heck of a guilt trip for a kid his age to deal with.

Vincent didn’t say anything at the moment, but he did look back slightly to keep a watchful eye on them as Daphne continued to drive, and the conversation finally did move on to other topics—

“Gee, there really aren’t any other cars out here besides our van,” Scrappy commented. “And a lot of the places have closed up for the night pretty early, too.”

“Makes sense based on what Marin told me,” Daphne said. “Everyone is scared of the fake ghosts.”

“We haven’t seen any of them yet—thank goodness,” Shaggy added.

“Rheah, thank goodness,” Scooby echoed.

“We’re getting closer,” Vincent said, interrupting the discussion. “If we want to sneak up on the poltergeist, our best bet is park here and continue on foot. Once we get close enough, I can teleport and startle the ghosts into flight mode—I’ll try to lead them towards you.”

“…Terrific,” Shaggy gulped, as Daphne parked the van.

“Also, I realize that you all have your reasons for wanting to go after those two lackey ghosts,” Vincent continued. “…And I am grateful that I seem to be a large part of the reason for your motivations. By all means, capture them if the chance presents itself. But, once again, our priority is the poltergeist.” He then paused, trying to choose his next words carefully. “More than that, I would be… very disheartened if your concern for me led you to blind revenge. Don’t let something so noble and pure become tainted into something dark. You’re all better than that.”

“You sure about that, Vince?” Flim-Flam snarked.

“Yes, I am.”

They all paused to look back at him in surprise as they were exiting the van. Flim-Flam had obviously been joking—but Vincent was unmistakably serious in his reply. Daphne managed a smile now; though interrupted in his attempt at making a more emotional speech earlier, Vincent still found his own ways to make his thoughts known.

“We’ll be sure to live up to your expectations,” she promised.

“Rheah, we will!” Scooby agreed.

Shaggy nodded along with Scrappy and Flim-Flam, but his thoughts had drifted a bit as they continued to the park on foot, thinking about how Vincent hadn’t even wanted to joke about something like that. The warlock ordinarily had a very wry sense of humor, so that definitely spoke volumes.

 _…Man, I can’t believe I was ever afraid of him_ , Shaggy mused.

He was reminded of the matter at hand, however, as a loud, haunting moan filled the air.

“Zoinks!” he yelped, as Scooby now leaped into his arms.

“What was that!?” Scrappy asked, looking around for the source of the sound. “That poltergeist didn’t make that sound last night!”

“That must be from the fake ghosts,” Daphne said, once the initial shock had passed. “Marin said the moaning carried all around the community. …I’ll bet it’s a system of speakers, like with the Space Kook.”

“…I gotta say, it _is_ effective,” Flim-Flam said, suppressing a shudder as another moan filled the air.

“Don’t lose your focus,” Vincent instructed. “Stay close to me—but keep moving forward.”

They did so—Shaggy and Scooby clinging to Vincent’s left arm, while the others also stuck close by on Vincent’s other side.

“…This is right around when Velma would somehow manage to pick all of us up and run,” Daphne said, managing a nervous smile.

“…She seemed to be a rather small young lady in that photograph you showed me,” Vincent remarked, arching an eyebrow again.

“She is; it’s the adrenaline rush,” Daphne explained. “She can explain it better than I can—something about the adrenaline releasing a whole bunch of proteins…” She winced as the moans echoed again, but she had to admit, there was a certain amount of security she felt in having Vincent close by—mortals were behind the fake ghosts, at least, and with Vincent here to protect them from the _real_ ghosts, the fake ones wouldn’t be able to do a thing to them (and some in the past had definitely tried). Even Scrappy was sticking close to Vincent, recognizing that fact, as well.

“…If you were frightened, why did you continue to seek these mysteries out?” Vincent queried.

“Like, I’ve asked myself that many times, Sir,” Shaggy sighed.

“Rheah, but we rhnever got an answer,” Scooby added.

“Did you guys get something out of it?” Flim-Flam asked. “Rewards from grateful clients or something like that?”

“No, just our names in the local papers now and again,” Daphne said.

“…That’s it?” the boy asked. “All that for just a mention?”

“Well, there was also the thrill of the adventure and the satisfaction of successfully putting the pieces together—as well as knowing that we did some good. I guess it was just something we felt had to do,” she said, with a shrug.

“Yeah, because if _we_ didn’t splat those meanies and stop them, then who would?” Scrappy finished.

“…Admirable sentiments,” Vincent commended. They’d clearly always had a sense of duty and purpose—that accounted for how they had agreed to recapture the 13 Ghosts (even if not entirely willingly), and why they’d insisted on staying to help him with Athena’s missions when they’d had no obligation for the latter.

He led the rest of the way in silence as they approached the park, more or less ignoring the moans of the false ghosts. In the gaps of silence, as they snuck into the park, they could hear Bogel and Weerd talking.

“Look, I’m tellin’ ya, we want to help,” Weerd was saying. “We’re on the same side here—against that warlock and those kids and dogs!”

“And, right now, you’re their public enemy number one,” Bogel added.

“They do not concern me,” a third voice—the voice of the poltergeist—hissed. “The warlock startled me last night, it’s true, but if he’s cavorting with mortals, he is clearly not a threat.” 

“You’re not the first ghost to make that mistake,” Weerd warned. “You can’t underestimate Van Ghoul.”

“I’m not,” the poltergeist returned. “I know of his power. I was sent by Asmodeus to complete a task, and he has already told me everything about that traitor to his bloodline.”

There was dead silence all around, from all sides—Bogel and Weerd had been stunned into silence, and Vincent had frozen in his tracks, which had prompted the others to look at him in concern.

“Waiiiit a second…” Bogel said. “So Asmodeus _is_ gonna make his move soon!?”

“More than that—you mean to tell me Asmodeus and Van Ghoul are _related_!?” Weerd asked.

“The warlock is a direct descendant,” the poltergeist confirmed. “Asmodeus has much to discuss with him.”

Vincent’s expression of shock now turned to an angered scowl.

“Get the Chest ready,” he instructed, and without waiting for a response, teleported to right behind the three ghosts. “I have _nothing_ to discuss with him—or you! _Diaga_!”

Bogel and Weerd screamed in terror as Vincent sent a blast of light magic at them; the poltergeist screeched, the three of them frantically dodging it.

“Run for it!” Weerd threw over his shoulder at the poltergeist, as he and Bogel vanished into the night.

The poltergeist, once again startled by Vincent’s obvious anger, also attempted to flee; Vincent sent another light magic pulse at the poltergeist, trying to direct it towards where the gang was waiting with the Chest.

Sensing that he was being herded, the poltergeist paused beside a large fountain in the park; his ploy paid off—eager to capture him, the gang ran out from their hiding spot, Shaggy holding the Chest ready.

The poltergeist then phased into the fountain as Vincent approached from one side and the gang from the other. Daphne assessed the situation with a glance at the now-glowing fountain.

“Shaggy, try and see if you can use the pull of the Chest to draw it out of the—”

She was cut off, screaming, as a large deluge of water erupted from the fountain, soaking all of them and the surrounding area, turning it into a muddy mess—and, unfortunately, knocking them off of their feet and right into the muck.

With a shrieking laugh, the poltergeist left the fountain, proceeding to hop into the nearest tree, then sending it crashing down upon them—

“ _Reflect_!”

The tree hit the barrier, stopping in mid-fall, but it continued to press down upon the barrier as Vincent continued to push back.

Taking advantage of Vincent needing to focus on maintaining his barrier to protect the others, the poltergeist also fled into the night.

Daphne was the first to get to her feet, and briefly considered going after the ghost, but that thought was soon pushed from her mind as she looked back, seeing Vincent still holding up the falling tree with his Reflect Barrier, the strain evident on his face.

“Flim-Flam, Scrappy—you two stand far enough back,” she instructed. “Shaggy, Scooby—you two have to help me pull Mr. Van Ghoul out of the way of that tree.”

“Right,” they chorused. They held Vincent’s arms again.

“You ready, Mr. V?” Shaggy asked.

He managed a nod, still focusing on maintaining the barrier until the three of them counted down and pulled him away from the tree. He let the barrier go, and the tree crashed down beside them. He shut his eyes for a moment, catching his breath as Flim-Flam and Scrappy now ran over, also holding onto his arms.

He sat up after a moment, glancing at the others; they were all soaked, kneeling beside him in the mud, looking back at him with nothing but concern—even though they had undoubtedly heard the ghosts’ discussion about Asmodeus and his link to him. They were sure to have questions—and they deserved answers. 

He gave them a nod of understanding.

“Let’s talk,” he said.


End file.
